This One's Mine
by ecol
Summary: After a chance encounter in the summertime, Elizabeth Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton are face to face at a winter's ball. With fate clearly sticking them together, is there a way to strike up the perfect flame? Second installment to the Helpless Trilogy.
1. Part 1: Angelica

_Angelica_

My mother has exquisite taste when it comes to parties. At this particular ball, a winter's ball, to be exact, my mother decided to take lanterns and tie them to the ceiling with rope. They illuminate the room in odd corners, but it looks quite beautiful to me. She also placed two banisters full of candles along the back wall, which do the same thing the lanterns do.

I am the first one downstairs out of the three of us. Tonight I am wearing a pink dress with orange highlights. There is a thin belt around my waist that accentuates my figure. I straighten my skirt as I hear the clicking of heels on the stairs. Eliza is the first one to appear. She is in the same blue gown that she was in on our trip to Manhattan in August. I am surprised that she is able to deal with the December freeze in a dress so thin.

Eliza takes my hands and kisses my cheek. I smile and stroke her cheek. "You look lovely, Elizabeth."

Eliza glows, her large apple cheeks flushing as they always do. "As do you, Angelica."

Margarita sweeps down the stairs, her large yellow gown twirling at her legs. She takes a deep breath in, her entire chest moving. "My dear sisters, who is ready for a party?!"

My sibling and I giggle at the youngest Schuyler sister; the most beautiful out of the three of us. Eliza, the most practical, only laughs along. I, the wittiest, of course, must respond with my sharpest tongue.

"My dear sister, if you are referring to us, I believe that you are no longer a Schuyler."

Peggy gasps, dramatically pretending to faint. "My sister has disowned me!"

All three of us laugh again, the sound like ringing bells. We huddle together and wait for our mother to check in on us.

Catherine Schuyler sweeps into the room, her dark magenta gown glowing in the light of the lanterns. She makes a stern face at us, looking us up and down.

"Elizabeth," our mother's voice bounces off of every crevice. "Where is your winter party dress? Aren't you freezing?"

Elizabeth calculates her words in her head. "It always becomes stuffy in here when more people arrive, mother. I was just thinking of dancing in sweaty shoes. Quite uncomfortable, if you ask me."

Our mother nods. "Very practical of you. Do either of you feel the need to change?"

Peggy and I both shake our heads. I prefer the heavier gowns; dancing in them makes you exhausted quicker, therefore giving me an excuse to be left alone by the _older_ gentlemen who want to dance with the eldest Schuyler sister. I believe Peggy has a similar reasoning.

Catherine Schuyler exits the room, dismissing us. Nevertheless, we stand in the foyer, waiting for guests to arrive.

And do they arrive. Hoards of women in beautiful gowns and hats drop off their wraps with us. We make several runs to the coat room as more guests appear out of thin air.

Eliza and Peggy don't talk to me much, but that's acceptable; more and more people come up to us with congratulatory remarks on our father's work, as well as the compliments and the lucky stars and all of those sorts of words. I think of it as superficial, and don't think too much of it.

The last wave of people arrives at about seven-thirty. In this wave is a group of patriot soldiers. They are dressed in their finest blue uniforms, freshly corn starched and ironed. All of them look rather dashing to me.

However, only one officially catches my eye.

He has big brown eyes and a little bit of scruff right under his cheekbones. He has dark hair and smile lines that stand out harshly. He makes me feel warm. As soon as I blink, he is gone.

I turn to my sister, whispering in her ear. "Did you see that man?"

Eliza is breathless. "Yes. That's Colonel Hamilton," she doesn't make eye contact with me, and her face is flushed. "Colonel Alexander Hamilton."

Alexander Hamilton. Aide-de-camp Alexander Hamilton. From what I hear he is quite a man. Eliza shakes her head, except I don't think the action is toward me. She mutters something to herself as she walks away.

I don't think much of his name, but continue to waltz around the room. Other greet me with smiles, some with curtsies. No handshakes. All compliments begin with the words "Miss Schuyler". If I told you I didn't mind, I would be lying…

An hour must have passed at this point; the sun is long gone. My younger sister is beside me again. Eliza is glowing, but for all the wrong reasons; she appears to be terrified. I press a hand to her shoulder. "Are you alright, Elizabeth?..."

"I'm okay," Eliza shakes herself out of it. Then, a smile stretches across her lips. She points to the one corner of the room. She is pointing directly at Colonel Hamilton. "This one's mine."

I giggle, detaching from my sister. I press a finger to my lips, telling her not to say anything. I walk over to Alexander and his freckled friend. I can feel Eliza's frustration begin to boil. This time, there's nothing I can do about it. Well, I mean, of course there is something I can do about it. I am just choosing not to.

I am all the way across the room in a matter of seconds. Alexander Hamilton looks up at me, a glazy look in his captivating eyes…

I bow my head and he does the same. "You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.

"I don't know what you mean. You forget yourself, Colonel."

"You're like me. I'm never satisfied…"

"Is that right?"

"I have _never_ been satisfied," Hamilton's aura becomes dark, and I feel uncomfortable. However it quickly fades away. I melt when he takes my hand and kisses it.

"Angelica Schuyler."

"Alexander Hamilton."

"Where is your family from, Colonel Hamilton?" My eyebrow perks up when I ask this question. However, he does not accept the wit. His hands fidget.

"Unimportant, my lady," Hamilton brushes the question off. "Just you wait."


	2. Part 2: Alexander

_Alexander_

The room is so loud that I can just barely stand it. John is at my side, Herc and Lafayette are behind me. Burr is somewhere, but at this point, I can't remember exact locations.

About an hour ago, when we stepped into the room, the three Schuyler sisters were presenting themselves. All three of them looked wonderful; they are the jewels of all of the thirteen colonies. Of _course_ I have heard of them before. I've just never seen them up close and personal like that. Yet, an odd feeling creeps into my stomach, and my head feels a little lighter. Almost like deja vu, I feel as though I've greeted these girls before.

The one in blue amplified this feeling the most.

I am able to sneak around them with the help of Laurens. He took my hand and dragged me to the ale barrel, grabbing a glass for me. "This is not the time for a meet and greet. I thought you could use time away from rich people and their fancies tonight."

"I think you are right, Laurens," I only sighed, and didn't say much else. I took a sip of the cold ale and the drink felt good as it slipped down my throat. I stood next to the wall, observing the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. They make the place glow in a way I didn't know was possible. The floorboards creak when a diplomat slides into his chair, and thuds erupt as groups of women dance, including the Schuyler sisters themselves.

"I owe you an apology," Laurens begins. He turns to me, his freckles like stars in the candlelight. I stroke my beard and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "I shouldn't have made you come tonight."

"There is nothing to apologize for, John," I take another sip. "I'm having a great time."

Laurens only nods. He doesn't believe me.

Another hour passes by. As we stand in the corner, I feel something overwhelming. A sixth sense, almost. I look up and I meet with a pair of chocolate eyes. They remind me of a simpler time, a happier time.

I swallow hard as my brain recognizes the rest of her. It's Elizabeth Schuyler, and a look of horror is plastered on her face. The look doesn't suit her well.

I turn around. Hercules is behind me. I ask where Lafayette is, and he shrugs. I sigh, unable to cover up my fear. _Why does she look like that?... Why is she staring at me?..._

In a moment, Angelica and Eliza are standing together. Eliza points a finger at me, whispering something harshly. I wince. What could she be saying? Did I look at her the wrong way?

Angelica waltzes over to me, and my mind is reeling. What should I say? Oh dear God, what did _Eliza_ say!

She smiles at me.

I bow my head and she does the same. Something happens inside of me, in front of this beautiful woman. I slide into my charm. "You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied."

"I don't know what you mean. You forget yourself, Colonel," she smirks and tosses a piece of her hair behind her shoulder.

 _What am I even doing?_ "You're like me. I'm never satisfied…"

Angelica leans backward, becoming defensive. "Is that right?"

"I have _never_ been satisfied," I simply smile again, taking her hand. I press a kiss to her knuckle and I can hear her gasp softly.

"Angelica Schuyler."

 _Don't worry. I know exactly who you are._

"Alexander Hamilton."

 _And you know me, too._

"Where is your family from, Colonel Hamilton?" The question strikes me hard. I am unable to comprehend the words for a moment. Her eyebrow jerks up; she knows exactly what she's doing.

"Unimportant, my lady," my hands begin to unnaturally fidget. I don't even bother to control it this time. "Just you wait."

She grasps onto my hand, pulling me to the other side of the room toward the stairs. I am not naive; I can tell what is going to happen next.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I'm about to change your life," Angelica only smirks. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep from twisting into a knot.

"Then by all means, lead the way."

Right before the staircase, Angelica stops. Then, Eliza Schuyler is in front of us both.

Like a butterfly, she curtsies with such grace. "Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

For a moment, I play dumb. I know that she's her sister, but thank God that John got me out of greeting them in the beginning of this charade. "Schuyler!"

"My sister," Angelica gives a knowing look, and I am flushing again.

Eliza cracks the silence with a giggle. "Thank you for all your service."

I take her hand in mine. "If it takes fighting a war for us to meet it well have been worth it," I kiss her knuckle despite her obvious stress.

In that moment, the stress melts away. She smiles at me, lighting up the room far better than the candles or lanterns ever could. "Shall we dance?"

"We shall, Miss Schuyler," I take both of her hands. I guide her to the dance floor, where about half a dozen couples dance together to the fiddle and flute players in the back of the room.

We clasp our hands together, facing each other. Her fingers gently press into the sides of mine; that is not normally what you do during a dance such as these. However, I figured that she isn't exactly the normal type of girl.

"I must apologize, Colonel Hamilton," Eliza swallows hard, unable to look at me. "I believe we've met before."

"What are you referring to?"

Eliza still can't look at me. But in the movement of the dance, we are forced to. She looks around the room, at her feet, at other people. Anywhere to avoid me. She finally responds in a harsh whisper. "I saw you in the square one time. You were debating-well, more like dueling-with Samuel Seabury."

In that moment, the world around me came crashing down.


	3. Part 3: Eliza

_Eliza_

It's impossible for him to not have known who I was.

Impossible, impossible, impossible.

I can't even look at him.

He can barely reply to me, he can't say anything; all he does is move foot by foot, hand with hand. "Are you okay, Miss Schuyler?"

I nod. The dance continues, and we move silently. I would say the jig lasts for about three minutes. Another song starts, but we both know we aren't going to move away from each other.

"I simply cannot fathom that that was you," I say, breaking the silence between us. "I didn't greet you with the proper title, nor did I-"

"Don't even bother with it, Elizabeth," He moves his hand to my waist and pulls me a bit closer to him. We are eye to eye now, nose to nose. "I did not greet you with the proper titles, either. Consider us even."

"You know I can't do that," I reply, my eyelids fluttering. The smoke from the candles is something I'm used to, but tonight my lungs cloud and my eyes water.

"If you insist. You owe me nothing, Miss Schuyler." He twirls me around him, making me dizzy. I collect myself as I land back in his arms.

I am able to look him in the eyes, now. Our eyes are nearly the same color. He has an angled nose, and a couple of sunspots on his cheeks. He has bags and is clearly tired; yet I've seen patriot soldiers in worse conditions. He has a graceful turn of the leg with strong calves and strong arms.

I want him more than anything I've ever dreamt of.

I want to call him Alexander. I want to introduce him to my parents, I want to show him my entire life; I want my sisters to adore him, I want my father to call him son. I want to marry him someday.

But that will never be, and my heart breaks every time I remind myself.

For the next hour, we dance and talk. Nothing else. Talking, dancing, ignoring the rest of the world. He makes me laugh countless times, and I make him beam on the same amount of occasions. In another life, him and I would have been childhood friends. However, he was not raised here; he grew up in Nevis. He was a charter, calculating the shipments of goods-and people, unfortunately-that came through the ports.

I tell him about my early life, my sisters, my father; everything came spilling out. Alexander Hamilton made Elizabeth Schuyler feel safe. A martyr made a practical flower feel at home. My mother would kill me. She might as well finish me off now, as I am completely helpless in his arms tonight. I would be helpless all the same tomorrow, the next day, and forever in advance. Alexander Hamilton owns Eliza Schuyler's heart.

"Colonel Hamilton?"

As if he was reading my mind, he laughs. "Please, call me Alexander."

"Alexander," I look down at our feet for a second, as the action has become an impulse. "I just wanted to tell you that tonight is a night I'll remember."

"As will I, Elizabeth," he looks down at me, knowingly, lovingly. His eyes are shining with the light of a thousand suns.

I look up into him, feeling the same way I did in August. I smirk, trying to behave myself. "I would hope so."


	4. Part 4: Alexander

_Alexander_

Her dark hair glows in the light of the lanterns. At this point, I want to take her cheeks into my hands and tell her everything I'm feeling. None of it is negative, all of it is positive. She makes me feel like a warm summer day, almost like the day I met her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelica Schuyler with her youngest sister. Peggy is glowing almost the same as Eliza is. Angelica, however, looks like a sculpture; cold and made completely of stone.

I shake it off. I can't think of them right now. Of course, to get to my end goal I may need to befriend them. They would become my family, after all. I came from nothing; I have built a name for myself with my writing and my war efforts. The Schuylers, however, have their own name and defining qualities. Their middle child makes my heart fly high into the rafters, into the sky, until it kisses God's face. Their practical, beautiful, smart, elegant Elizabeth would never marry someone like me.

I cringe at the thought, at the formation of the thought. Of course, because Eliza is pouring herself into me, she catches my wince.

"Is something wrong, Alexander?"

I shake my head, attempting to chase the thought away. Suddenly my blue coat becomes too heavy, my shiny black boots become too tight. I inhale deeply, trying to control myself. "No, nothing is wrong. In fact, most things are right. Why?"

"You look…" her gaze is locked on me, she's taking me in. How I wish she wouldn't do that. Someday she will take in something that she didn't mean to… "Troubled."

Her word choice makes me chuckle. "I am more troubled than the average man, yes. However, tonight, I am quite fine."

In a moment, someone awkward switches off with their partner to our left. In an attempt to save herself from being run into, Eliza makes a jerky step forward. The heel of her foot lands directly in the bridge of mine. I stifle a scream, immediately clenching onto Eliza's hip and hand. She gasps in return, making a couple of heads turn. She pulls away from me, clasping her hands together. "I'm so sorry, Colonel Hamilton!"

 _I hate it when she calls me that!_

"Apology accepted, Miss Schuyler," I much prefer Elizabeth, Eliza, or even Betsey to Miss Schuyler, but for right now her title may be my only option.

Eliza bows her head, curtsying to me. "I think that this would be a good place to end, Colonel. I couldn't have asked for a better dance partner, and I apologize most sincerely for my clumsiness. It is truly one of my vices."

 _You have no vices, my dear girl._

I take her hand again, squeezing it. I don't lean down to kiss it this time. I'm not completely sure if this causes offense. I assume not, since she still looks at me with smiling eyes.

As I go to leave, I remember something. I turn around and take her arm in my hand. She is startled for a second, but recollects herself. "My dear Betsey, I urge you to write to me. I can send the address to this house whenever you are free."

"I think that this week will be just fine, Colonel," Something flickers across her eyes, but I can't quite tell what.

With that, I walk away from Elizabeth, Angelica, and Peggy Schuyler. John is sitting next to two full pints of ale, another in his hand. He looks up at me and laughs when I approach him.

"Helloooo lover boooooy," his speech is so slurred that I can scarcely make out what he is saying. I sigh, shaking my head. Us war heroes are quite the drinkers.

"Watch yourself, Laurens," I say, grabbing onto his shoulder. "I am taking my leave. You don't have to follow along, however I would feel bad leaving you here."

"I'll follow. Herc and Lafayette left us in the dust," Laurens belches. I could never leave him here like this. "So unfortunate."

"Unfortunate indeed," I lift my friend up and deliver him to the front door. As I go to close it, Eliza stands in the foyer. She gives a sad smile as I step out into the bitter cold of December, a drunk John Laurens attached to me.

As we stumble home, I don't come to terms with the fact easily. I debate and ponder, weigh the options. By the time dawn arrives, I know it.

Eliza Schuyler owns my heart.


End file.
